T Williams - To Provence, with Love

Somehow, Faye felt pretty sure that there weren’t going to be too many opportunities to spend money in St-Jean-sur-Sarde. Still, some time to herself, the opportunity to catch up with a whole heap of reading, and her own personal cinema promised to ensure that she wouldn’t be bored.

***

She left Salisbury late on Sunday afternoon and drove down to Portsmouth in the surprisingly nippy little car. She took the overnight ferry and managed to sleep reasonably well before arriving in France in the early morning. Although she probably could have done the drive in one long day, her father had insisted she should break her journey and, by the time she pulled into the car park of a budget hotel beside the motorway that evening, she was feeling very tired. That night, as she lay in bed, listening to the incessant rumble of traffic, the dominant thought in her head was how good it felt to be setting off on another chapter of her life, knowing that upon her return, she would be making a completely fresh start.

Next day she got up at seven, and by early afternoon was already in Provence, the road curling steadily upwards past olive groves and vineyards. She drove through sleepy little villages, the shutters of the houses tightly closed against the heat of the sun, with no living creatures to be seen. She blessed the instinct that had made her father select a car with functioning air conditioning, because it was absolutely scorching outside.

Shortly before three, she found herself at the self-same spot where she had stopped to ask for directions. This time there was no sign of a tall man and a black Labrador, but she knew where she was going. By the time she reached the gates of the chateau, she was feeling very excited at the prospect of what lay ahead.

She stepped out into the suffocating heat and pressed the bell. As she was waiting, she spotted a camera mounted high to one side, pointing down at her. Security, in a place like this, was clearly paramount. She gave it a little smile and a wave and wondered if anybody was watching. No sooner had she done so, than the gates began to open, so she gave the camera another wave before getting back into the car.

She drove round to the stable yard at the back of the chateau and parked right outside her new apartment, vaguely conscious of barking coming from the house. As she climbed out of the car, she was almost floored by the arrival of a very boisterous Marlon, clearly delighted to see her again. He was closely followed by Claudette, the housekeeper. She gave Faye a welcoming smile and dangled the keys to the flat in front of her.

‘Hello, Faye, and welcome back. It’s all ready for you. I’ve filled the fridge for you and Mr Marshal’s put in a few bottles of wine, but Miss Beech asked if you’d like to have dinner with her this evening. That is, if you haven’t any other plans.’

Faye disentangled herself from the Labrador and straightened up again, giving Claudette a big smile. ‘No, no other plans. Please tell Miss Beech I’d be delighted to have dinner with her. Your food’s so wonderful.’

‘By the way, that square thing on the key chain is the remote control for the gate, so you can get in and out any time you want.’ Claudette glanced down at the dog who was sitting at their feet, eyes trained adoringly on Faye. ‘And, if you want company, you can always take Marlon out whenever you like for a …’ She grinned at Faye. ‘I won’t use the word as he instantly recognizes it, both in French and in English. He never says no.’

Faye looked up. The sun was still shining down from a cloudless sky and it was very hot. Even so, a walk in the country with a big friendly dog sounded wonderful. ‘That’s a brilliant idea. Once I’ve got my stuff into the flat and got sorted out, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll take Marlon for a … you know what.’

‘Now, Faye, would you like me to give you a hand with your things?’

‘No, I’m fine, Claudette, thanks. I haven’t brought much stuff and I’ll easily manage. I’ll come over and collect the dog from you once I’ve finished, if that’s all right.’

‘Of course. I’ll be in the kitchen and the door’s just there on the other side of the courtyard. It’s never locked and there’s need to knock – just come in. Now then, Marlon, you come with me.’ Somewhat reluctantly, the dog got up and followed Claudette over to the kitchen while Faye opened the door to her new home and climbed the stairs, the feeling of excitement building inside her at the prospect of what was ahead of her. What she found in there only increased her delight.

The shutters were closed, but the windows were wide open and it was blissfully cool in there. A vase on the table held a lovely bunch of flowers, most probably picked from the garden, and their perfume filled the air. Faye went into the kitchen and found a fresh baguette on the bread board and half a dozen bottles of Gigondas on the worktop. She opened the fridge and saw that Claudette hadn’t been joking when she’d said she had filled it. It was packed with everything from salads to cheeses, ham, eggs, fruit and vegetables, butter and milk. Eddie had obviously decided that red wine wasn’t enough and there was a row of bottles of local rosé lined up in the door shelf, along with mineral water.

It took her barely ten minutes to bring her stuff up from the car and less than half an hour to unpack and put away the bulk of it. She was delighted to find there was a strong Wi-Fi signal in the stables and a similarly strong phone signal, so she would still be able to stay in contact with the outside world beyond the confines of this remote part of rural France. She was already wearing shorts so she located her old sandals in readiness for the walk. As she did so, she checked her watch and saw that it was almost four o’clock.

She went across the yard and into the kitchen, tapping on the door before opening it. It was a lovely big room, the ceiling supported by ancient beams, oak kitchen units around the walls to match – a perfect mix of medieval and modern. The floor was made up of the same pink terracotta tiles as in the lounge, while the marble worktop mimicked their faded rosy colour.

Faye found Eddie Marshal sitting at the table with a mug of coffee in his hand, Claudette hovering behind him. He was once again wearing a white T-shirt and jeans and Faye saw he had espadrilles on his feet. The housekeeper looked up as she heard the door and saw the dog charge across to greet Faye. ‘I’ve just made coffee and tea, if you’d like a cup, Faye. I just took some tea up to Miss Beech a moment ago, but she’s still having her afternoon nap.’

Faye was delighted to accept. This was a welcome opportunity to sit down and chat to Eddie and Claudette who, between them, surely knew all about Miss Beech and her life, at least since coming to live here in France. ‘Thanks. I’d like to go out for a you know what with our four-legged friend in a moment, Claudette, but a cup of tea, if it’s made, would be very welcome.’

‘Come and have a seat, Faye. How was your journey?’ Eddie Marshal pushed a chair out from the table and beckoned to her.

‘It was fine, thank you very much, Mr Marshal.’ Faye took a seat and felt the dog slump down onto the terracotta tiles against her ankle. A moment later she felt his tongue lick her toes and she was hard pressed to avoid giggling. She realized that, ticklishness apart, she really was feeling unusually cheerful.

‘Excellent, it’s a good long way from England, isn’t it? I don’t drive at the moment, you know. I’ve been having trouble with my hip.’

‘I’m sorry to hear about that. It must be very uncomfortable for you. So, if you don’t drive and Miss Beech doesn’t drive, how do you get about? Surely you need a car for shopping and things?’